Hesitate
by Moirae333
Summary: Montague was never going to join the Death Eaters and kill his friends, although it drove a wedge between him and Derrick. After the Death Eaters won the war, he is given another chance to choose between darkness and light. AU, part of a larger series.


**Title: **Hesitate

**Rating: **18A (violence, slash and character death)

**Genre: **Angst, darker Romance and a little Drama

**Spoilers:** Philosopher's Stone to Goblet of Fire, some of the Losing Faith fanfic.

**Period: **1993 and 2001

**Pairings:** Derrick Leland/Alexander Montague, minor others.

**Summary: **Alexander Montague was never going to join the Death Eaters and kill his friends, although it drove a wedge between him and his lover. After the Death Eaters won the war, Alexander is given another chance to choose between darkness and light, but his decision comes too late.

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The plot, however, is created by the writer and is not to be replicated by another.

**Writer's Notes: **A stand-alone ficlet that takes place in the much larger world of Losing Faith, which disregards OotP and HBP. Thgerefore, this ficlet disregards OotP and HBP. This ficlet takes place during 1993 and 2001, which corresponds to around Chapter Ten (the quidditch chapter) of Losing Faith. The Death Eaters have won the war, and anything else that is required to understand the story should be supplied. If you enjoy this and would like to read more, please check out Losing Faith in my profile.

**Hesitate**

_an alexander/leland remorse_

_- 1993 - _

Alexander Montague let his chocolate eyes drift across the Slytherin locker room and breathed deeply the stale stench of sweaty defeat. The seventeen-year-old chaser held his Nimbus 2000 within a white-knuckled hand, while his other hand fumbled with dark green robes. He could hear cascading water bleed through the drainpipes as the last quidditch player stepped from the showers with only a towel tied around his waist.

"Mister William," Alexander greeted quietly as he avoided focussing his eyes on the keeper's muscled shoulders, ignored the droplets of water that trickled down William Bletchley's arms and chest and soaked into the towel.

William glanced midnight blue eyes towards the younger Slytherin and graciously gave him an acknowledging tilt of the head. Reaching for one of the damp towels discarded among the Quidditch robes, leather gloves and boots, William used it to towel-dry his hair.

Alexander frowned and imagined miniscule, lavender micro-organisms jumping from the soiled towel and dancing with William's fragile, ear-length blond strands. "Community towel?" he asked in his strongest voice.

The towel dropped to the floor, and William's foot came forward slowly to prod it. "I suppose," he mumbled, and it took Alexander a moment before he understood him. "Here," and William prepared the towel on his foot and tossed it into Alexander's grasp, which was moulded for five years into the third best chaser on a team consisting of three.

The Nimbus 2000 dropped from the chaser's hand, clanked to the stone floor with a resonating clatter. When Alexander's hands touched the towel, he stared at it for a moment, comprehended, screamed, and then dropped it. "Mister William! That was uncalled for!"

William laughed, snatched his Slytherin uniform and left Alexander to repeatedly wash his hands with the pink antibacterial soap at the sinks. Alexander cursed as he realised there was no paper to dry his hands or to shut off the tap; he let his hands air-dry and left the tap running. Alexander gazed with blurry eyes as the water ran clock-wise down the rusty drain, and his ears twitched as he heard two voices enter the locker room.

"Ter," a female voice whispered, and Alexander watched as Terence Higgs silenced the Ravenclaw with his mouth, but she pushed him away. "Terence," she teased in a seductive voice as she ran her hands over the silver and green stripped tie he wore over his Slytherin robes.

Alexander watched as the seeker gently forced the sixteen-year-old against the wet stone. "Try-outs are over," he reassured her as he pinned her hands against her sides.

The Ravenclaw giggled, and Alexander felt a string tug from the centre of his stomach. She wriggled one of her hands free and ran it through her blonde hair, tucking the bouncy stands behind her ears. "Do you think Flint will keep you as seeker? You caught the snitch in half the time as that Malfoy character did," she reminded him.

Terence felt the corners of his mouth wander into a frown, and he secured her hand back into its position against the wall and separated her legs with his knee. "The Slytherin team is of no concern to you, Miss Clearwater," Terence reprimanded, and pressed his lips against hers.

Iphthime Clearwater smiled and kissed the Slytherin back.

Alexander let his eyes close and parted his lips, breathing through his mouth. He touched his hand against the wall of the locker room, now humid from pools of condensation rising up from the showers and the miniscule bath Alexander ran in the sink. A sphere of heat dropped from the hollow of chest pelvis and set in his lower abdomen, and shattered into ice crystals by two piercing voices.

"Terence, Iphthime!" Penelope Clearwater and Percy Weasley entered.

"Ten points from Ravenclaw and Slytherin for being out after supper! Terence, I should expect something better from a prefect such as yourself," Percy lectured as he watched Penelope's younger sister and his best mate leave the locker room.

Alexander opened his eyes, expecting to see the cold stare of the Gryffindor prefect staring back at him, but instead saw nothing but the empty, depressing locker room. Alexander allowed himself a mournful sigh, stared at the water overflowing in the sink, and quickly left the locker room.

-

The Slytherin common room was silent when Alexander entered, the fire was crackling in the hearth, throwing its dim light over the green-robed teenager sleeping on the couch. Alexander slid the door closed, his eyes focussed on the spiky-haired beater, his ears jerked at the soft snores coming from Leland Derrick's mouth. Alexander stepped forward, and smiled delicately at how the fire cast iridescent shadows over Leland's face.

Alexander knelt and covered Leland's mouth with his.

Leland's brown eyes fired open, and he smiled through kisses. "I was waiting for you," he informed as he wiped the sleep from his eyes, and yawned. "After tryouts, Flint announced the team."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Congratulations, chaser. Terence, Pucey, Flint, Bole, Bletchley, you and I. The best team Slytherin has had in a while. You should've seen the tossers that came to try out--Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Landon, Wood in drag. He was rather sexy," Leland explained as he pulled Alexander to his feet, and stood himself. He rested his hands on Alexander's bony hips and stared down, massaging his fingers into his lover's side.

Alexander leaned forward for another kiss--

--as the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team came through the doorway--

--and Alexander shoved Leland aside, watching with remorseful eyes as he fell backwards onto the couch. He mouthed an apology to his boyfriend, and took a deeper step inside the proverbial closet.

Marcus Flint dropped his manoeuvres parchments on the tier table and grunted in the general direction of his beater and chaser. "There's a meetin' tomorrow," he said.

Alexander nodded. "Tomorrow? Yeah. When?"

"7:00, here in the commons," Marcus mumbled as he left for the seventh years' dormitories.

The others awkwardly stared at Leland and Alexander for several moments before collapsing onto the lounge sofa, their green robes meshing with the cloth of the same colour. "He's anxious about kicking Wood's arse this year," Adrian Pucey said as he slumped his arms around the shoulders of the two boys who flank him--Terence Higgs and William Bletchley.

"D-doesn't he kick-kick Wood's ar-arse every y-year?"

"We win the cup, of course," Terence explained, "but y'know Flint."

Alexander nodded his head, and pressed his lips together as he stole a quick glance down at Leland; the spiky-haired Slytherin sat with his arms crossed and eyes staring resolutely into the disappearing flames.

Adrian squeezed Terence's and William's shoulders and inclined his head towards the crossed lovers. "Double Herbology in the morning, we'll see you at the meeting. Night, Lee and Alex," Adrian spoke quickly, standing and pulling his two mates with him. Only Bole remained seated on the sofa, with an oblivious look upon his face. "Sprout will make you collect Mooncalf dung if you're late again, Bole."

Bole looked up. "But we're not in the same class . . ." he began.

Adrian laughed awkwardly and shoved half the Quidditch team down the stairwell.

"This isn't my dorm!" Alexander could hear Bole protesting.

Alexander ran his tongue across his lips as he sat down next to Leland, and frowned when he felt Leland move farther away, closer towards the armrest of the sofa. He raised a shaking hand and placed it on Leland's shoulder.

Leland jerked from his touch. "I can't believe you would do that!"

"Flint came!"

Leland span towards him, his eyes dilated with images of dying flames. "You secured a spot on the team before thinking about how I would feel at being shoved away!? You can't really think that Flint is daft enough not to see what is right in front of him! You wear eyeliner and black nail polish for Merlin's sake!"

Alexander dropped his head onto his lap. "I'm sorry," he cried. "I d-did it for you-you too. F-flint would fi-find a new beater and-and ch-chas-aser if he knew of our relationship."

Leland shook his head. "Alexander, when will you realise that Flint's passion is Quidditch? He won't endanger the team with inconsequentialities." Leland exhaled and left Alexander alone in the dark as the last embers of the fire blinked out of existence.

-

Leland forgave Alexander the next day even though Alexander didn't sit next to him during the Quidditch meeting in the commons. He listened to Flint drone on about new tactics and some secret weapon that was in the making, wondering if Leland was correct. Would Flint care if his chaser and beater took to the same bed?

Alexander reminded himself that there was a reason he remained in the proverbial closet.

The meeting ended and Leland was the first to leave; after several seconds, Alexander followed him down the corkscrewed staircase into the sixth-years dormitories. He magically locked the door and leaned against it.

"What would you have me do?" Alexander asked.

Leland glanced up and replied, "Nothing. I understand--when Flint is around, we're mates and that's all. But you do realise that everyone else isn't as dense as he is. We're only at Hogwarts two more years, then we're through with all this juvenile propaganda. Then we can be together."

Alexander beamed. "Yes."

"Perfect."

_- 2001 - _

The Slytherin locker room was empty when Alexander re-entered it, unsure of his footsteps. It had been six years since he had been here last and still the stench of mildew brought back memories of defeat and victory, of Flint pounding Wood after Slytherin lost to Gryffindor or won to them, of making love to Leland in the showers.

When Alexander arrived at the Hogwarts castle and saw Leland in the velvety black robes of the Death Eaters, his heart jumped into his throat and stayed there until Leland spoke to him. They hadn't spoken since Alexander left one night, almost five years ago when Leland joined You-Know-Who. It was idle and awkward chit-chat, Alexander was shaking and stuttering so terribly that he brushed his former lover off. But as he walked into the locker room and saw Leland dressing, he took a deep breath and tried his hand at conversation again.

"Mister Derrick."

Leland Derrick straightened at the sound of Alexander Montague's voice. He exhaled sharply and span around, his eyes a chocolate refection of seven years of angst and cold blankets. Leland's hair was cropped past his ears and dyed an emerald shade of green only used in bingo dabbers--the shade clashed terribly with his green Quidditch robes. He wore thick leather gloves and boots, and his beater's bat was tied at his side with a belt made of dragon's skin.

"So is that how it is?" Leland asked coolly as he continued to buckle his gloves.

A soft twinge of guilt crept past Alexander's face. "How is it supposed to be?"

Flint's beater sat on the mildew-covered bench and frowned. "Leland. Always Leland. You should know that . . . in all the years we were together, had you ever called me by any other name?" he enquired, staring up at the twenty-four-year-old.

Alexander nodded. "Mister Leland."

Annoyance surged through Leland's veins as he heard Alexander's trademark greeting, something Alexander had never called him. You can tell a lot about the way a person uses another's name, Leland considers. "Drop the 'Mister' Alex," he demanded as he rose to his feet and stepped forward.

Alexander and Leland were of equal height now. "I can't."

"Why?" Leland whispered, bringing his lips dangerously close to Alexander's.

"Cause you wore those robes and I wore these." Alexander forced his eyes closed and breathed in the musky scent that was Leland. Although Alexander could not remember the day or perhaps the month Leland came home in black robes and snake tattoos, he could still vividly remember the warm comforts he found in the arms of Mister Fire Whisky. Mister Fire Whisky's arms were always welcoming, and he stumble on sleep quicker than usual when with him.

Leland lifted Alexander's face with his hand. "I'm still who I was in Hogwarts. So are you."

"I loved you," Alexander said helplessly.

"I know."

"How could you join You-Know-Who?" Alexander's eyes lazily opened.

"How could you have not?"

"I couldn't kill my friends."

Leland chuckled and placed feather-light kisses over Alexander's cheeks and mouth. "All of our friends became Death Eaters. I loved you too, Alex; still do. Don't return to your home tonight, come back with me to the castle," Leland offered, smearing the eyeliner beneath Alexander's eyes with his thumbs like he used to while they were at Hogwarts.

"Are you a-asking me to be your b-bitch like Penelope is to Percy? Like L-landon is t-to Flint?" Alexander asked with slight annoyance in his voice.

Leland stuck his thumb in his mouth and sucked the make-up off, flicking his tongue over his fingertip. He saw Alexander squirm and inwardly smirked. "I'd like you to become a Death Eater. I love you. There was never a time I was happier than when I was with you, Alex." He removed his thumb, wiping the salvia on his robes.

"I-I don't kn-know, Le-Lelan-and. A-a D-dea-eath Ea-ater?"

"Promise me you'll think about it?"

"A-aft-ter the-the g-ga-a-me, ok-kay?"

Leland nodded and placed his hands on Alexander's shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss.

-

Despite the death of Lord Voldemort, the Death Eaters had won the wizarding war. Lucius Malfoy had taken control of the Death Eaters and created a stronghold across Britain, imprisoning those who allied against him.

The idea of a Quidditch game was not Lucius's, it was Percy Weasley's. A boost to morale, Percy had told him after he established everything, and the Death Eaters found this a perfect excuse to revert back to who they used to be. Death Eater quidditch is doubly unique as ordinary quidditch, the players for Hufflepuff, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw would have been better off killing themselves than playing. People were going to be slaughtered, the Death Eaters are going to make sure of it.

Alexander stared at the Quidditch pitch and thought at first that he was seeing double. Situated at the four directions were the goal hoops, a set for each of the houses, which were to play the game simultaneously. Marcus Flint failed to mention anything like this to them during the prep talk, and he glanced over at Leland for verification.

Leland blew him a kiss and laughed, and Alexander's stomach fell. He only just heard the commotion the other team mates had with Flint's other beater. When the whistle was blown and Slytherin was in possession of both quaffles, Alexander had a chance to watch history.

When the first player fell, kicked in the head and de-broomed by Marcus Flint, and two other young players collided and spiralled to their deaths, Alexander focussed on Leland rather than his job as keeper. He wasn't a keeper at Hogwarts, he was always a chaser. It was what he did best.

Below them, the bleachers of Death Eaters roared as those who lost the war fought for their lives. But Hufflepuff, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw weren't the only ones to be having causalities this day--when Alexander saw the bludger jet toward Leland, he tried to scream but couldn't form words with his swollen tongue.

The bludger broke Leland's broom, and Slytherin's other beater diverted another bludger from their captain, choosing his life over Leland's.

And the game continued on around Alexander. And he let Gryffindor score, and Hufflepuff, and let nearly all the quaffles pass through the goal hoop until Charlie Weasley of the Gryffindor team caught the golden snitch.

-

Alexander's eyes brimmed with tears as he stared down at the lifeless body of Leland Derrick. Crimson blood streamed over his boots as Alexander stepped awkwardly through it and knelt next to the body. Still-warm blood soaked into green Quidditch robes, and Alexander ignored the commotion surrounding him.

Leland's broom had penetrated the soft tissue below his chest and created an exit wound at his left shoulder. The beater fell from the sky holding the shard of broom, landed on the pitch with such a force that his broom drove itself through his body. Alexander's eyes focussed on the gore-encrusted shard, and his mind screamed for his hands not to touch it.

Tears overflowed in his honey-brown eyes and down his cheeks as he wrapped a white hand around the smooth oak, using the other for leverage. He pulled in the shard, pushed on Leland . . . and felt his hand slide up the shaft of the broom. Alexander sobbed, made a reach for the broom with both hands and yanked it out.

It made a sickening suction sound, and Alexander let it fall into the pool of Leland's blood.

"Oh god," he whispered as he crawled forward, barely noticing the eyes that watched him from the sides. Alexander rolled Leland onto his back and gently pressed his hand to his ex-lover's forehead, removing limp green hair from brown eyes. Alexander leant forward and pressed his lips to Leland's letting tears fall onto Leland's blood-washed face. "I'm sorry, Lee." And after a beat he added, "Yes."

He stared at the shard soaking in blood and pieces of Leland's insides until his eyes blurred, then quickly took the shard in his hand, wiped tears away with the sleeve of his robes and entered the Slytherin locker room. The other players on the team didn't talk as they showered and fallout began.


End file.
